Hi Ohio, Bye Ohio

Against better judgment, finances and a car that likes to break down every time we take it over 45 miles an hour, the girlfriend and I decided to visit some family in Ohio to celebrate our last week of freedom before school started again.\nThe family members in question live close to Cincinnati, Ohio, a metropolitan area many people see as the crown jewel of the state. This is probably because it is the only city in Ohio people can name. \nI kid, I kid. Cincinnati is known for a great many things, including amazing contributions to the culinary world (putting chili on top of anything edible, including ice cream and breakfast cereal). The city is also admired for its bravery and humility in the face of owning not one, but two of the biggest laughingstocks in professional sports.\nIt is a well-known fact that every road running between Bloomington and Cincinnati, including county roads and dirtbike trails, is under construction. This is for a reason: many people, especially when confronted by cranked-out truckers riding approximately a centimeter from their rear bumpers, like to drive a little faster than the speed limit on the flat, boring roads ahead of them. Indiana and Ohio have reached an agreement to keep every road between them in constant flux, however, and have even hired an army of elderly drivers to traverse the roads at 25 miles an hour under the speed limits, night and day, to keep others safe. \nAnother fact about the main route between our city and theirs: there are three gas stations on the hundred-odd miles of road, and only two of them sell something other than diesel and expired candy bars. Obviously the drive wasn't all slow-going or boring. In fact, upon hitting the interstate, the exact opposite became true and suddenly I found myself not cursing other drivers but myself as the trip became a frenzied, primal challenge to stay alive, not unlike the chase scene at the end of "The Blues Brothers." Ohio, being a liberal, philanthropic state, has donated its interstate system to the important cause of teaching mental institution escapees how to drive. I had to learn the system quickly, too, since there are no city, county or state roads in Ohio. Everything is connected by a vast, scary network of interstates, making even a trip to the grocery store a harrowing experience.\nTo mangle a cliché, getting there was only half the fun. To commemorate the end of summer we decided to visit Kings Island, arguably the best-known theme park in the Midwest. The park offers big-city thrills (like trying to find a parking spot less than two miles from the park and avoiding projectile vomit) in a fairly rural setting, and we had not been to visit it in years.\nWhat many people don't know about Kings Island is the fact that it is really not a theme park. Instead, it is some sort of bizarre military training camp in disguise. For instance, no matter what part of the park you are standing in, there will not be a bathroom for at least half a mile. To consult a map to find one of these bathrooms, you must be fluent in various moon languages. Assuming you finally do decipher the mystery of the maps, the bathrooms are equipped with tires and will roll away from you if you come within 30 yards of them. \nAnother example: rides are supposed to be calming or exciting. Fast or slow. As far as I can tell, the only purpose the rides at this particular park serve is giving you a severe beating before ejecting you onto the pavement to wait in line two hours for the next one, much like boot camp. Many of the rides include "head guards" on the side of the seats, which are supposed to keep your head from snapping back and forth during more turbulent sections. Unfortunately these guards are made of concrete and razor wire. In addition, many of them feature automatic, spring-loaded fists that periodically shoot from the sides and punch you in the face. \nFor all the bad experiences I did learn a lot, however, the most important was never leave the state in a car to go on vacation. Actually, it should be "never leave the state, period," but if I couldn't leave where would I get my chili-topped coffee?